You Were the Hero
by antmuzak
Summary: Lieutenant Catherine "Sparrow" Pierce is Hawkeye's younger sister. A new nurse at M*A*S*H, she fits right in and makes good friends with all the wonderful people at the 4077th M*A*S*H. But her real reason for visiting her brother, is to write her great American novel on the truth of what the Korean War is like. Eventual Father Mulcahy/OC, but mostly friendship/family-centric. R&R!
1. We Come From a Long Line of Birds

**You Were the Hero**

**A M*A*S*H Fic**

**A/N: Hey there! This is my first M*A*S*H fic, so please be easy on me. I hope you like my OC. This is an eventual OC/Father Mulcahy fic, but the romance won't show up right away. Mostly it's about good old sibling bonding and friendships with all the M*A*S*H members. Please enjoy and review! P.S. The title of the fic will make sense in the end.**

"Will you stop twitching?" A nurse turned to Sparrow, sneering in disdain.

"It's a condition," Sparrow shrugged, continuing to bounce her knees, clutching her leather-bound notebook tightly in her hands.

"Ladies, ladies," a hairy man in a dress shushed the girls, "we're almost at the camp."

Sparrow was full of nervous energy, and kept her eyes on the path ahead of them. She had never been an army jeep before now, but her stomach was not doing backflips for that reason.

A different nurse leaned forward, smirking at Sparrow.

"You got a fella here or something?" She had deep red lipstick and her lips smacked together as she talked.

"Nah," Sparrow shook her head, wishing the nurses would leave her alone.

"Then why are you so nervous?"

"Just something I read about a Korean War, you wouldn't have heard of it, would you?" Sparrow brushed the nurse off, frowning.

All the nurses glared at her and turned back to their idle gossip.

Good to know Sparrow was making friends.

The driver made a final turn into camp and lurched into a stop.

"Welcome to the 4077th M*A*S*H!" The driver smirked and opened the doors for the girls.

"Colonel Blake, sir?"

Sparrow stepped out of the jeep, still holding tight to her book, and saw a short young man in glasses tailing behind the man she presumed was the Colonel.

"Yooo?" The Colonel was reading a letter while he walked.

"Uh sir, the new shipment of nurses are here."

"Eh? Don't tell Pierce and McIntyre, then," The Colonel chuckled and gave the short man his letter.

"Welcome, ladies," The Colonel smiled politely, if not a bit nervously.

He opened his mouth as if to say more, but stopped, frowning.

"Klinger!" He shook his head at the driver, "what did I tell you about those get-ups?"

He gestured to Klinger's yellow dress. A bit too frilly for Sparrow's taste, but not bad.

"But, sir," Klinger defended, "these girls need to see what's tasteful to wear around camp."

"Then it that case, puh-lease put your uniform on."

"How come he's got to wear uniform and you don't, sir?" Sparrow spoke up, unable to help herself.

The Colonel clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth and walked over to inspect the nurses.

"Klinger, Radar, get these ladies settled in, will ya?" The Colonel shook his head at Sparrow, extending his hand.

"Colonel Henry Blake. And you are?"

Sparrow grabbed the man's hand, shaking it firmly.

"Lieutenant Pierce, sir."

"Pierce, eh?" Henry took his hand back and adjusted his fisherman's hat, "any relation to a Benjamin Franklin?"

"Sure, I have a little bit of relation to all the founding fathers, sir."

"You've got a sharp tongue, girl. Shall I fetch your brother for you?"

Sparrow grinned.

"No, sir. I'm hoping he doesn't found out too soon."

"And why's that?"

"Well, sir, I think he might very well kill me for being here."

* * *

"I'm afraid, for now, you'll be bunking with Major Houlihan. We've got a few more nurses than we have tents, it seems," Henry shrugged apologetically.

He was walking with Sparrow across the camp, hands snug in his pant pockets.

"A female Major?" Sparrow's ears perked, "now that's neat."

"Yeah, real neat, except she's a real-," Henry stopped himself, looking at Sparrow nervously, "well...let's say a real piece of work."

"You know you don't have to watch your language around me, sir. Not on account of me being a woman, or anything," Sparrow crossed her arms.

Her mousey brown hair was in two tight braids, and was swinging against her shoulders.

"Aw, it's not like that, Pierce. I just don't want to get in any trouble with your big brother."

"Just call me Sparrow, to save the confusion. Anyway, is my brother like the big bully around here, or what?"

"More like the class clown," Henry snorted.

"Good to know some things haven't changed."

"And here's you," Henry stopped gesturing to the tent.

"Say...this Houlihan- the real piece of work- does she know I'm going to be bunking with her?"

"Uh," Henry tugged at his collar, "not presently at present," he muttered.

"Well, I think I can take it from here, sir."

"Uh, right," Henry tipped his head and walked off.

Sparrow took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

"I have a headache, Frank!" Houlihan shouted through the door.

"Do you call all your roommates 'Frank'?" Sparrow snickered.

Houlihan threw open the door, looking rather flustered. She was a gorgeous woman, with curly blonde hair, and a frown like Sparrow had never seen before.

"Excuse me, who are you?"

"Lieutenant Pierce, ma'am. But you can just call me Sparrow."

"Pierce?!" Houlihan's eyes doubled in size, "you're Pierce's sister?"

"The one and only," Sparrow dipped her head.

"You're so young, what are you doing here?"

"School project. I get a lollypop if I don't get blown up," Sparrow shrugged, "can I come in?"

"You're about as reckless as your brother," Houlihan tutted.

"Only in my wildest dreams."

"Why do you want in my quarters?"

"Colonel Blake says I'm bunking with you for now."

Sparrow saw the life drawn out of the Major's eyes.

"Don't worry, I won't bother you. You and this Frank guy can have all the time you need."

"I don't believe I know what you're talking about!" Houlihan snapped.

"Alright," Sparrow shrugged, "I'm going to go shower. I suppose you can talk to Henry about all this if it bothers you so much."

"I will do just that," Houlihan glared at the younger nurse.

What a beautiful start to a beautiful friendship, Sparrow smiled to herself.

* * *

"Klinger, if you're the only friend I meet while I'm in Korea," Sparrow mused, "well then, I think I'll be alright."

"Aw, thanks ma'am."

Corporal Klinger had been ordered to show Sparrow around, and she'd told her story about encountering Major Houlihan. Margaret, she learned, was her first name. Suited her.

"Really, Klinger, I'm barely twenty. I don't think I fit the title of ma'am."

"Hey, me neither," Klinger nodded, looping his arm through Sparrow's.

"And here's the mess tent."

"It sure is," Sparrow eyed it in distaste.

"It's almost dinner, actually. Why don't you get a seat before everyone gets here?"

"Oh, uh," Sparrow grimaced, "I better not. Say, Klinger, you think you could get me whatever's edible and bring it to me?"

"Sure thing, Sparrow. Where will you be?"

"I dunno. Just going to have a look around."

* * *

"Oh, sorry," Sparrow babbled, backing herself out of the tent she'd entered.

"Not at all, my dear," the man replied, putting a hand on her shoulder.

"Need some help?" Sparrow realized that she was speaking with the camp chaplain.

A young man, probably around her brother's age. Not bad looking either, though, none of the men here were, it seemed.

"Well actually, I'm not-," Sparrow stopped herself, seeing the chaplain's beady eyes.

"...Catholic, but I suppose I could use some advice."

The chaplain looked overjoyed.

"Well then come, my child! Sit down," he gestured to an empty bench.

"I'm Sparrow Pierce, sir," Sparrow extended her hand, sitting down.

"Pierce? Are you-"

"Yeah Hawk's my brother," Sparrow nodded, "we come from a long line of birds."

The chaplain smiled fondly, "you are your brother's sister."

"So I'm a sister, Hawk's a brother, and are you a father, Father?"

"Why yes," the Father sat down across from Sparrow, "I'm Father Mulcahy."

"An honor," Sparrow stood up and bowed.

"What can I help you with, my dear?"

"Well, Father...," Sparrow sighed, "I'm avoiding my brother, and I'm not sure how much longer I can keep it up."

"Oh, and why is that?" Mulcahy narrowed his eyes, but they were still kind and empathetic.

"Well, Father, I don't think he will be very happy to see me here. He...," Sparrow bit her lip, "he wrote my letters, constantly, on what this place is like. I know it's no picnic, but I had to see it for myself."

The Father gapped, trying to collect himself.

"My dear, your devotion to your brother is commendable, but, if you don't mind me saying so, a little foolish..."

"I know, Father. It's not just my brother, though I swear I was going mad without him. It's just that I...," Sparrow gulped, "aw I'm going to sound really dumb if I tell you."

Mulcahy raised his eyebrows.

"My dear, I will not judge anything you have to say."

"Well, the truth is, Father...I'm not a nurse. I mean, I took the courses and all. But my heart's not in it. I'm a writer, you see."

Sparrow fingered the leather-bound book she carried with her at all times.

"And I couldn't resist the opportunity to see what was really going on here."

The Father was lost for words.

"I know, I'm foolish, immature, selfish even. I guess I didn't really think it through. It's just, our mom passed away a few years ago, and it's been tough ever since for me. I got kicked out of so many boarding schools, and my father never talked to me."

The Father clasped his hands together, listening patiently.

"The only time I could feel any comfort, away from Hawk, was when I wrote stories. But stories stopped being good enough when I got older."

Sparrow paused, staring at the tent floor. It was covered in a sparse layer of dirt and dust.

"I wanted something real to write about. I know that this could be it. This could be the book of a life time, or at least I already know the story is."

"My dear. I do agree that your actions were a little immature, and maybe even reckless. Much like your brother. But, you shouldn't apologize for your passions. And I think your brother will understand if you explain it to him the way you did to me."

"Thank you, Father," Sparrow smiled faintly, standing up, "I'll see you around."

* * *

"Is that gravy?" A blonde curly-haired man asked Hawkeye, picking at his food.

"Nah, it's yesterday's coffee, and tomorrow's pudding," Hawkeye replied with a yawn.

Sparrow smiled to herself. That was her brother, there was no doubt there.

She entered the mess hall, standing in line, trying to think of what she could say to her brother.

"Hey Hawk," Hawkeye's companion muttered, "check out the braided nurse over there. Real young, but sharp looking."

Hawkeye turned to where his sister was standing and frowned, straining his eyes.

"Now, I get first dibs," the curly-haired man added, "because I saw her first."

"SPARROW?!" Hawkeye stood up, knocking his tray to the ground.

"Now listen here, Pierce," a snarling man sitting next to Margaret shouted, "we won't have any of that monkeying around in here."

"Catherine Pierce, is that you?!" Hawkeye walked over to Sparrow and tilted her hat up.

"I heard the food here's terrific," Sparrow smiled nervously.

"You're dead meat, Chickadee."

**A/N: So there it was! Chapter One! I hope you enjoyed it. Sorry if it was a little dialogue-heavy, but I was trying to keep up with the fast paced witty quips M*A*S*H specializes in. Anyway, advice or comments would be excellent. Do you want a chapter two?**


	2. I'm Shaking in My Feathers

**You Were the Hero**

**A M*A*S*H Fic**

**A/N: I am SO happy with this positive feedback I've received! Thank for your advice and comments! I hope this chapter is okay.**

"You know I hate it when you call me chickadee," Sparrow muttered.

She and her brother had sat down at an empty table in the corner of the mess tent.

"You know I hate it when you enlist in the Korean War," Hawkeye countered, stealing a string bean from Sparrow's tray.

"I already have a nickname," Sparrow avoiding her brother's eyes, grumbling into her hand.

"Yes, and it's lousy and self-inflicted," Hawkeye shook his head, "when were you going to tell me?"

"I guess when I was in the OR with you, handing you a sponge," Sparrow shrugged.

"Look at me," Hawkeye sighed.

Sparrow lifted her chin pointedly and turned to face her brother.

"What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that I missed you and that I didn't want to be in that stupid house any longer."

"It can't have been that bad."

"Yeah?" Sparrow raised her eyebrows and sat back in her seat, "Want to know how mad I was at you?"

"How mad?" A ghost of a smile crept its way back onto Hawkeye's lips: not fully forgiving her, but amused, nonetheless.

Sparrow's eyes lit up, and she lowered her voice to a whisper.

"I was so mad at you and father, I took dad's copy of The Last of the Mohicans, and I took his golf club..."

Hawkeye waited patiently, eyes glittering.

"and I hit it right through the window!"

"YOU DID NOT!" Hawkeye shrieked with laughter, nearly falling out of his chair.

"Now listen here, Pierce," the man Hawkeye had identified as Frank spat through his tight lips.

"Listening!" Hawkeye and Sparrow chimed in unison.

"Now," Hawkeye grew serious again, "you're an adult, I can't tell you what to do. But you have to understand that this is it...there's no backing out. You're here, in our little section of hell. It's not a game, it's not one of your stories, it's real life."

"I know," Sparrow nodded firmly, "I understand."

* * *

"Trapper, this is Sparrow, my baby sister," Hawkeye introduced Sparrow to the curly-haired man he'd been sitting with earlier.

"Hardly a baby," Sparrow rolled her eyes.

"You've been saying that since you were six months old," Hawkeye shoved her side with his elbow, "being an adult isn't all that great."

"Yeah," Trapper added, "we've got taxes, and broccoli."

"And marriage, which my friend here happens to be afflicted with."

"Didn't I just see you with a nurse?" Sparrow smirked.

Trapper, Hawkeye, and Sparrow were walking around camp, making their way to the legendary "Swamp" Sparrow had heard about.

"Who? Nurse Cutler?" Trapper guffawed, "well she's new here, like you. Quite the catch."

"Yeah, yeah, I've heard the stories. All's fair in marriage and war."

"Exactly," Trapper raised an imaginary glass in an imaginary toast.

"Lady and gentleman, may I present: the Swamp!" Hawkeye gestured madly at the tent they'd stopped at.

It looked like every other tent in the camp, if not slightly bigger than some.

Hawkeye held the flap open and Sparrow and Trapper walked in.

"Doesn't look like much," Sparrow admitted, "where's the still?"

"Patience, little bird," Hawkeye waggled his eyebrows, "besides, it's a secret."

"Yeah, we wouldn't want you thinking you can just come in here for a drink, any old time," Trapper shook a finger, "that is, unless you bring a friend."

"You're a swine," Sparrow chuckled.

"Haven't you heard? We're the swine brothers!"

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, swine brothers."

* * *

"That martini was so dry, my mouth is full of sand," Sparrow yawned, hugging her brother.

"It's Trapper, he's a genius, I tell you."

"Well give him a kiss on the cheek for me, will you? I'm heading to sleep."

"I would, but I think he's got a Nurse Cutler attached to it."

"I'd like to meet this Nurse Cutler," Sparrow decided, "I should really get to know all the nurses better if I'm going to be working with them."

"Well, you'll have plenty of time for that later, chickadee."

"Hey, what did I tell you about calling me chickadee?"

"I'm shaking in my feathers," Hawkeye smirked, "now get out of here."

* * *

"This is an outrage!" Hawkeye and Trapper walked in the mess tent that morning, deep in intense conversation. Hawkeye had that mad glint in his eye, and Trapper was doing a lot of smashing his fist into his palm for emphasis.

"Isn't it a little early for an outrage?" Sparrow greeted them.

"Around here: never," Trapper shrugged, making his way into the line.

"Well what's up, then?" Sparrow glanced hesitantly at the disgusting array of food.

"Coffee's the only thing that won't kill you," Hawkeye warned, "that, and the nurses!"

"So I've heard," Sparrow poured herself a cup of coffee.

"Right, well the best one to come here since Hotlips Houlihan is on her way out!"

"Hotlips?" Sparrow snickered, sliding herself into a seat.

"Nurse Cutler is leaving!" Trapper explained.

"And no thanks to Hotlips. Said she was a distraction."

"Well, she could have a point," Sparrow pondered.

She took out her leather-bound book and a pen.

"Tell me the whole story."

"No time, we've got to go talk to Henry!"

"Well, good luck!" Sparrow waved.

She made a few lines on her hand, to test that the pen worked, then began to write.

So it seems the mysterious Nurse Cutler will be gone before I meet her. I wish I could say that I'd never seen my brother so excited over a girl, but that would be a lie. This isn't a romance, even if my brother is a romantic. Everyone here has been rather pleasant, I suppose I'm just waiting for the scary parts. It's like watching an Alfred Hitchcock film, and knowing that something bad is going to happen any minute.

She paused. It was all coming across too contrived. She needed it to be more natural, more real.

"Excuse me ma'am."

Sparrow looked up, to find the Corporal she'd met on her first day standing with a tray in his hands.

"Mind if I sit here?"

"Go ahead," Sparrow shrugged, "you're Radar, right?"

"Yes sir- ma'am, I mean," Radar stuttered, sitting down awkwardly, as if his limbs weren't working properly.

"Watcha reading?" Radar put his hands on his chin, and leaned forward in interest.

"Oh, um," Sparrow pulled back, concealing the book, "I'm writing, actually. Just little stories, you know," she trailed off.

"Oh, that's neat," Radar smiled softly to himself and went back to his food.

* * *

"Well, what's the scoop?" Sparrow skipped next to her brother and Trapper, who were walking across camp.

"Henry's no help," Trapper shook his head.

"I beg to differ," Hawkeye disagreed, "we just need someone to go three rounds against some guy from another M*A*S*H unit- boxing, y'know. Three rounds, and we could get her back."

"So who's it going to be?" Sparrow asked, falling into place next to Hawkeye, "not you?"

"Your confidence in me is inspiring," Hawkeye winked, "but I was thinking old Trapper here should give it a try."

"Well he is built like a boxer," Sparrow considered.

"Hey, don't hustle me," Trapper snapped, "cos I'm not fighting anybody."

"Well that's a shame," Hawkeye whistled, "I bet you're a natural."

Typical Hawk, trying to manipulate others to get what he wants. Good thing Sparrow had learned from the best.

"And Nurse Cutler would be sure to thank you," Sparrow's eyes twinkled.

"Cut it out you two," Trapper sighed, "I'm not in shape, anyway."

"Who says you're not in shape?! You've got a cute body!"

"I'll second that," Sparrow smirked.

"Look! Do we want to get Nurse Cutler back, or what?!"

"Yes."

"Alright, okay!" Hawkeye smiled.

It was a classic Hawkeye smile. He wasn't giving up.

* * *

Sparrow was scribbling away in her book, trying to find a way to tell the story of what was currently going on in the M*A*S*H without sounding boring.

"Come on, Radar!" Hawkeye cried, "you can do better than that."

Radar and Trapper were practicing sparring, and Hawkeye was their ever-enthusiastic coach.

Sparrow sat at the sidelines, trying to ignore the sound of Radar running around all over the ring like a frightened hen.

"Oh, hi Father," Hawkeye said.

Sparrow looked up from her book and saw Father Mulcahy, looking on in admiration.

"I trained a number of boys to box, back home," the Father revealed.

Sparrow tilted her head in interest. That was peculiar; out of the ordinary.

"Any advice for Trapper?"

The Father hesitated, and handed Hawkeye his bible.

"Prayer?" He suggested.

Mulcahy came and sat down next to Sparrow.

"Good to see things are working out between you and your brother," he noted with a little smile. He had a nervous sort of smile, but it was genuine.

"Yes," Sparrow agreed, "now he's back to his usual antics, just like when I saw him last."

"Writing anything interesting? If you don't mind me asking, that is."

"Oh," Sparrow sighed defeatedly, "I'm not too sure at the moment. Just a piece in work."

"Well, I'll leave you to it then."

Sparrow waved a goodbye, and turned back to her book.

She'd drawn a rough cartoon of the Father, exaggerating the size of his glasses and his cross, his hat a little more askew than in reality.

She smiled to herself.

* * *

"Hawk, if something goes wrong, I don't want to be a part of it," Sparrow warned her brother.

"You helped put the ether on, for God's sake!" Hawkeye hissed, "no backing out now. Besides, I happen to know that Trap can do it. We're going to win this one."

"If you say so."

Sparrow took a seat in the stands next to Klinger, who was wearing a cherry red dress for the occasion.

"If only we had popcorn," Klinger said, leaning forward in anticipation.

"If only," Sparrow agreed, taking out her book.

"What are you always scribbling about in there?"

"Oh, a little bit of this and that. Right now I'm trying to capture this event properly. I'm trying to make it like a grand metaphor for the war, or something."

Klinger gave her a look of confusion, and turned back to the event.

"Congratulations, Trapper!" Sparrow hugged her new friend, "a little bit of ether goes a long way."

"You're telling me! Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got an ulcer to develop, and a nurse to seduce."

Sparrow took a walk around camp, kicking pebbles out of her way.

"Why so glum, my child?" Father Mulcahy asked, joining her in her sulking walk.

"I've been working on this piece all week, Father," Sparrow sighed, "and I can't seem to get it right. I want to be like the new Earnest Hemingway, or F. Scott Fitzgerald, but all I'm getting is silly anecdotes about Trapper and Hawkeye."

"You know, Sparrow," the Father mused, "I think you should stop trying to write a great American novel, and just write what you think makes a good story."

"But I'm tired of stories," Sparrow stopped in her tracks, "I want to be taken seriously. I came here to see the war, and to write about it."

"Well, my dear, you'll soon learn that, around here, there's some good, and some bad. It's all part of the war. You must remember that the people here are all trying to deal with the chaos in their own way. Give it some time, and you'll have your story."

**A/N: Okay, I hope that wasn't too hectic. I was trying to follow the story, but I didn't want to just retell the events. Everyone who's seen "Requiem for a Lightweight" (Season 1 Episode 3) knows what happens, and I thought it would be boring to just retell the events. Anyway, advice is always helpful.**


	3. Flying Out of the Nest

**You Were the Hero**

**A M*A*S*H Fic**

**A/N: I'm so sorry about the wait! Please don't hate me! I was having horrible writer's block, but it's gone for now, so here you go!**

Sparrows hands shook as she passed the forceps to her brother.

She looked at the body before her and tried not to make a choking sound.

It had been two months since she'd arrived at the 4077th M*A*S*H, but she still wasn't used to the sight of an open body.

"You okay?" Hawkeye asked Sparrow, as she patted his forehead with a damp cloth.

"Never better," she shrugged, "you?"

Hawkeye opened his mouth to respond, but Klinger had entered the Operation Room carrying a stretcher.

"This guy needs help right away, sir!" He called to Hawkeye. His dress strap was riding down his shoulder in distress.

"I've got this," Sparrow assured her brother, "you go."

"Little chickadee is flying out of the nest," Hawkeye winked, and ran over to Klinger.

Sparrow smirked into her martini glass as she watched her brother dance with Trapper.

"You dance beautifully," Hawkeye proclaimed, with a twinkle in his eye.

"Thank you, so do you," Trapper countered.

"Get married already, won't you?" Sparrow snorted.

"Hey, turn that thing off, will you?" Frank muttered.

It was a typical afternoon in the Swamp after a hard day's work- an 18 hour shift, that was.

"Aw, don't get your nose hairs in a twist, Frank," Sparrow yawned, stretching her arms and lying back in Trapper's cot.

"You're not permitted to be in here," Frank reminded her with a nasty growl.

"I think you just spat on me, Frank."

"You're a terrific dipper," Trapper was back at the compliments.

"Oh yeah," Hawkeye agreed.

Frank sighed dramatically.

"After 18 hours in the operating room, where do you find the energy?"

"Can't help it, Frank, we're the crazy generation!"

"I'll drink to that!" Sparrow cried.

"No, that's enough, sis."

"You can't be serious," Sparrow glared at her brother.

"Can't write the great American novel, full of booze."

"Ever heard of Ernest Hemingway?" Sparrow muttered stubbornly.

Just as Sparrow was about to vacate, Henry came into the tent, followed by an unfamiliar man.

"Hiya Henry!" Sparrow, Hawkeye, and Trapper chorused.

"This is Lieutenant Bricker," Henry introduced the man, "Lieutenant Bricker, this is Major Burns, Captain McIntyre, Captain Pierce, and uh...," he gave Sparrow a skeptical look, "Lieutenant Pierce."

"Surgeon?" Frank asked.

"Well I hope so," Hawkeye snickered, "we don't need a gynecologist."

Sparrow elbowed her brother in the side.

"No," Henry was grinning goofily with anticipation, "Lieutenant Bricker is with Special Services. He's a movie director!"

"Here that, little bird?" Hawkeye gave his sister a significant look.

Sparrow, who had been inattentively inspecting the stitching on Trapper's blankets, sat up.

"Well, welcome anyway," Hawkeye greeted, his voice saturated with sarcasm.

Sparrow would have elbowed her brother even harder, if she weren't leaning forward in her seat, now very interested.

"Officers and doctors?"

"That's what it says on my box of leaches."

"Yes," Sparrow nodded eagerly.

"He's making a documentary on M*A*S*H units!" Henry spat out, like a child who couldn't keep a secret, "and General Clayton said he couldn't have picked a better place than the old 4077th!"

"Fascinating!" Sparrow couldn't help but say.

"Was he sober when he said it?" Hawkeye raised his martini glass.

"Shut it, would you?" Sparrow snapped.

"I want to tell your story, focusing on one doctor, but showing all of you of course! Any of you done any acting?"

"My brother acts like a buffoon every day," Sparrow pointed at Hawkeye.

"I've had a little experience, Lieutenant, -uh, amateur production in college," Frank announced, "I played Romeo-"

"-And Juliet," Hawkeye supplied.

"That's very interesting, Major," Bricker nodded.

"For a while there, it was a toss up about whether I'd be a doctor or an actor."

"Which did you become?" Hawkeye wondered.

Sparrow cackled and nearly fell out of her seat.

"Cut that out, you two," Henry pulled at his shirt collar.

Bricker thought for a moment, and walked over to Hawkeye.

"How'd you like to have a shot at this, Captain?"

"Who me? Nah, I'm sorry, I'm under contract to North Korea...as a spy."

"Sense of humor! Moves well, good skin tone-,"

"-and a full set of teeth," Sparrow added.

"Could be laughs," Trapper nudged Hawkeye.

"Oh come on," Hawkeye shook his head.

"Well, if you don't do it, he's gonna give it to Frank."

"OKAY! That does it, you've got me, Bricker."

* * *

"You? The star of a film?" Sparrow poked her brother with her fork, "never thought I'd see the day."

Hawkeye, Trapper, and Sparrow were sharing a table at the Mess Tent.

"I've just got that star quality," Hawkeye batted his eyelashes at Trapper.

"How 'bout you, sis?"

"What about me?"

Sparrow prodded at her -supposedly- mashed potatoes in inspection.

"Going to get in on the project? You seemed pretty interested."

"Well it all ties in to what I'm doing, doesn't it? A documentary about the 4077th. I'd really like to pick that guy's brain."

"Speaking of picking brains," Hawkeye stood up, "I promised Nurse Cutler that we'd have an intellectual conversation at five. See you kids later."

Sparrow shook her head, and Trapper stretched his arms.

"You don't want to talk to Bricker, trust me," Trapper warned Sparrow, "These guys just want to show the world how fine and dandy the war is going."

"He wouldn't do that," Sparrow frowned, "would he?"

"You've got a lot to learn, kid."

* * *

Out of habit, Sparrow decided to pay Father Mulcahy a visit.

She'd been coming by the Chaplain's tent at least once a week since she'd arrived at the 4077.

She wasn't quite sure what drew her there. She certainly wasn't Catholic, and had no real interest in religion as a whole.

Yet, she found herself seated on a bench across from Mulcahy, hugging her knees to her chest.

"What would you like to talk about, my dear?" Mulcahy asked pleasantly.

"It's this film crew that's coming here," Sparrow explained, "they're making a movie about M*A*S*H units."

The Chaplain processed this news, nodding slowly.

"You like movies?" Sparrow asked.

"Well...yes, I do," Mulcahy smiled fondly, "I've seen many good ones."

Sparrow was silent for a moment, pressing her lips together; eyes distant.

"My dear?" Mulcahy prompted. He'd taken off his hat, and was cradling it in his arms.

"Trapper thinks this guy's just scamming us. He thinks that it's just an excuse for propaganda," Sparrow explained.

"And what do you think?"

"I dunno," Sparrow chewed on her bottom lip absentmindedly, "I've always loved movies. They're just like books, but you can see them, y'know? I remember the first time Hawkeye took me to the theatre. I don't know what it is about cinema..."

"Well films are a great form of escape," Mulcahy suggested knowingly, drumming his fingers along the brim of his hat.

Sparrow smiled but didn't answer.

"I've been writing stories all my life, and thinking I needed to write the great American novel. But...what if movies are the way to go now? Maybe I should be getting in on this project?"

"I remind you, my dear," Mulcahy smiled, "you're a nurse."

"Oh, I know that," Sparrow rolled her eyes, "but I could always use a side project. This good really be a big thing for me!"

"It very well could be," Mulcahy agreed, "but you should be careful, all the same."

* * *

"First day of shooting, kid," Hawkeye beamed at his sister. They were sitting across from each other at the Mess Tent, the next day.

"Yeah, I know, you're a star," Sparrow rolled her eyes.

"Come on, you get to witness a master in his element!" Hawkeye proclaimed, nudging Sparrow.

"Alright, alright," Sparrow shook her head, and followed her brother.

Lieutenant Bricker and the rest of the film crew, were set up outside the camp, where the jeeps had arrived.

Hawkeye was attempting to order the other doctors and nurses around, but it was proving difficult, with cameras in his face.

"Hold it! Hold it- cut!" Bricker demanded.

He leaned in toward Sparrow's brother, grinning a flawed grin.

"I want a shot of you conferring with another doctor, you know what I mean? Talking it over, making a decision?"

Hawkeye made some quip, and walked right by the director, heading to the Operating Room.

Sparrow had the morning off, and shoved her hands in her pockets, shuffling up to the crew.

Bricker was shaking his head and looking over the papers in his hands.

"How's it going?" Sparrow cleared her throat. She felt her stomach to a small backflip.

Sparrow wasn't typically a nervous person, but she did have to summon some extra confidence to approach Bricker. This could be a life-changing moment.

She'd even tied her mousey brown hair into a tight braid, and shaped her lips with a bright red lipstick she'd "borrowed" from Hot Lips.

Bricker's eyes widened and he put down his papers.

"Why, you're the star's sister, aren't you?"

Sparrow didn't bother to remind the man that they'd met in the Swamp, two days prior.

"That's me," Sparrow shrugged her shoulders pleasantly, "I was wondering if you needed any help."

"You like movies, eh?" Bricker winked "Well I'm sure we could use some help!"

* * *

"It's getting ridiculous," Trapper was shaking his head. He was lying on his bed, a martini glass in hand.

"What? The war?" Hawkeye snorted.

"This phoney documentary! I can barely work with all these cameras and microphones in my face!"

Sparrow frowned, putting her martini glass down.

"Oh quit it, Trap. It's not all that bad. Bricker just wants to show what it's like here, he's going for accuracy."

"Teacher's pet," Trapper growled.

"You've been spending a lot of time with that guy," Hawkeye frowned. He opened his mouth to say more on the topic, when Frank and Margarte entered the tent: both flustered and blushing.

Clearly the couple hadn't seen the others, because Margaret leaned into Frank, her lips brushing against his.

"Ooo, I hope we're not interrupting anything," Hawkeye smirked.

The couple pulled apart, immediately.

"Uh...the Major was helping me with a narration for the documentary- Bricker asked me to do it!" Frank proclaimed, pressing the pieces of paper he was holding against his chest in pride.

Sparrow rolled her eyes. Bricker hadn't asked Frank- Frank had begged to do it. She'd been there when it had happened.

She smiled secretly to herself. Bricker had been very keen to use many of her ideas, and praised her often. She didn't mind being called a teacher's pet, if it meant that her talents were finally being appreciated.

Frank cleared his throat and began to read his narration aloud.

"...the dogs of war bark at the doors of this sanctuary," Frank annunciated clearly, sticking his chin out while he talked.

Hawkeye began to bark madly, wagging his tongue mockingly.

"Down, boy!" Trapper laughed.

Sparrow glared at the swine brothers, grabbed her notebook, and left the tent.

* * *

"...and Hawkeye and Trapper are being complete buffoons!" Sparrow finished breathlessly.

For once, it hadn't been her who had sought out Father Mulcahy's help, but him who'd asked her if she'd wanted to talk.

Maybe he'd seen the way she'd stormed out of the Swamp earlier.

"Interesting dilemma," the Father nodded.

"It's no dilemma," Sparrow huffed, "Bricker is an intelligent man, and Hawkeye's just being immature."

Sparrow expected Mulcahy to agree with her, as usual, but the Father hesitated.

"My dear, have you ever considered that your brother might just be looking out for you?"

"Looking out for me? What? Am I supposed to be afraid that one of the cameras will fall on my foot?"

Sparrow had been lying on the bench in the Chaplain's tent, but abruptly sat up now.

Mulcahy was blushing, his lips pursed tightly.

"What?"

"W-well, my dear, it's just that," he cleared his throat, blushing even further, "sometimes men like Bricker try to take advantage-,"

"Oh no way!" Sparrow was incredulous, "my brother convinced you to give me this lecture, didn't he? Bricker is not like that. He respects my ideas and my creativity, unlike some people in this camp!"

* * *

Bricker and Sparrow were sitting next to each other in the Mess Tent, the next day.

"You know," Bricker took Sparrow's hand in his own, "I really liked those changes you made to the last shot," he was saying.

Sparrow was hoping, beyond anything, that she was blushing bright red like Margaret did whenever Frank was around.

"Really?"

"Do you mind if I sit here?"

Sparrow's eyes wandered to Radar O'Reily, who was shuffling up to their table. He sat down with his tray and began to eat his dinner.

"What about that scene we did with Frank when he-,"

Sparrow laughed, picturing Frank's tripping over his own feet in excitement.

Sparrow and Bricker were laughing, when Radar began to laugh along with them.

Bricker stood up and made to leave, clearly wanting to get Sparrow to himself, which made her heart race. But, they were, yet again, interrupted by Radar.

"Uh sir, do you have a minute to talk?"

"About what?" Bricker frowned.

"Uh well I was wondering if you had any tips for anyone who wanted to get into the movies?"

Bricker opened his mouth to protest, but Sparrow gave him a little nudge. Radar had such large eager eyes, and she didn't think it would be fair to ignore him.

"Well alright," Bricker sat down next to Radar.

Sparrow smiled to herself and began to walk back to her tent.

* * *

"WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!" Sparrow stormed into the Swamp the next morning, furious as could be.

"What? The glue instead of toothpaste? Come on, Sis, it's just a harmless prank," Hawkeye yawned, "and it's too early for you to be yelling at me on my day off!"

"You know what I'm talking about!" Sparrow nearly spat, "all that film, all that hard work: ruined! Just because you and Trapper couldn't deal with not being the center of attention for once! 'Only looking out for me'-my ass!"

"Speaking of your ass, that's all that Bricker guy was interested in, you know," Trapper smirked.

"And why is that any of your business," Sparrow was steaming, "I'm twenty years old, I can see who I like."

"The man was scamming you, as much as he was scamming us!" Hawkeye shouted, "he didn't use any of your ideas!"

Sparrow paused, and stuck out her chin stubbornly.

"What do you mean?"

"The guy was just twisting you around his finger to get you into his tent."

Sparrow's hands trembled as she cross her arms tightly.

"Is that true?"

"I heard him telling Frank all about it," Hawkeye said, quite seriously now, "I'm sorry, chickadee."

Sparrow bit her lip, refusing to look at her bother or Trapper. Hawkeye did many ungodly things, but he never lied to her.

"He just wanted to brainwash the masses with his Yanky Doodle Doctor crap," Trapper shook his head sympathetically, "don't take it personal, kid."

Sparrow's eyes stung as tears began to form. She felt like a fool, and she didn't want anyone to know that.

She turned her face further away from them, attempting to pul herself together.

"Listen, Sparrow, Trapper and I have a mind to beat that man to a pulp, we just need your word."

"No," Sparrow sniffed sharply and turned back to face them, "I have a better idea. But I'm going to need your help."

* * *

"That's it, the camera loves you!" Sparrow laughed.

She stood behind the cameraman that Bricker had left behind. Her hair was in a messy bun, held together with pencils, and she had a mad grin on her face.

"A little closer," she called, coaxing Hawkeye, Radar, and Trapper, further to the left. They were all dressed in formal uniform, and holding a banner reading "M*A*S*H 4077th".

Father Mulcahy walked up behind Sparrow, smiling pleasantly, his hands clasped in front of him.

"What is it you've got going on here?" He asked politely.

"Oh, just a little project, Father. You'll see- tonight in the Mess Tent."

* * *

"_Three hours ago, this man was in the battle. Two hours ago, we operated on him. He's got a 50/50 chance. We win some, we lose some. That's what it's all about. No promises, no guaranteed survival, no saints in surgical garb._

_Our willingness, our experience, our technique, are not enough. Guns, and bombs, and antipersonnel mines, have more power to take a life, than we have to preserve it._

_Not a very happy ending for a movie...but then...the War is a movie."_

There was a prolonged silence, and then the lights turned on.

Sparrow held her breath, as everyone stood and gave a round of applause.

Hawkeye and Trapper sat on either side of her, squeezing her hands.

Nurse Cutler and Radar were hugging and jumping up and down, and Father Mulcahy shared a congratulatory smile with Sparrow, from across the room.

"Nice work, little bird," Hawkeye nodded.

**A/N: Ahhh sorry for the late update! I really hope that this is an okay chapter! Please review!**


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